Upsidedown, but in a good way
by Hunter Watson
Summary: John gets new post reichenbach neighbours who help him back on his feet. Rated T cos I'm paranoid. Raven Arroway has written an alternative universe-thing to this fic, and it's awesome. Go read!
1. Chapter 1

**Upside-down, but in a good way**

Paddington station. A girl with brown hair cut in a bob stares at the paper in her hand, before tucking it into the rucksack at her feet and slinging the bag onto her back, grabbing the handle of her wheel-along suitcase. "Ok. I can make it." Rachel muttered, looking around her. She checked her watch. "Probably..." She amended.

On the underground she got a text;

whr r u? KE

10:01 AM Katie Eveleigh

undrgrnd RH

10:01 AM Rachel Hunter

ur l8 KE

10:02 AM Katie Eveleigh

thnx. damn trains RH

10:02 AM Rachel Hunter

its ok. th othrs r 2 x KE

10:02 AM Katie Eveleigh

lonely? :) x RH

10:03 AM Rachel Hunter

Rachel stepped off the train and went to the Costa Coffee where Katie was waiting. The taller blonde girl ran up, hugged her friend and dragged her to the table. Chloe arrived with the next train, a girl with long light brown hair, a massive grin and plenty of energy. Eleanor, a girl with a dark brown bob, texted to say she was lost, but, with directions, found the coffee shop shortly. After a traditional huggy reunion, they set out to 221 Baker Street, their new home.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Let's pause, to really look at these for 18-year-old friends. By that level of friendship? Long time friends, probably childhood meeting.

Rachel Hunter. Doctor by the medical books in her bag, but she's too young. College age. Doctor in training, then. Brown hair in a neat bob. Brown eyes. Black tank-top, brown leather jacket, dark blue jeans and glittery silver converse high-tops. Necklace pendant looks like a flame, and shimmers in the light. Blue and grey rucksack, black wheel-along case. Both well-packed, but full. Athletic girl, probably swimmer. Keeps good care of her possessions by the three month-old, yet scratch-less Blackberry curve. Bit of money too, for a student, judging by her phone.

Katie Eveleigh. Tall, long blonde hair. Check books- biochemist in training. Denim jacket, bright shirt, jeans, trainers. Also athletic, but differently so; fast reflexes, muscular like a fighter – so judo or karate black belt. Her notebook has an insignia that decides it on it- GB Judo Society. Leather satchel and canvas hold-all. Both full, like Rachel's.

Chloe Smith. Long, light brown hair. Energetic, smiley and friendly. Shortest of the friends. Art student, going by the charcoal stains on her hands, the box of brushes in her handbag and the indents on her fingers from pencils. Coat blends from yellow down to orange, like a sunset. Bright striped shoes, jeans and a green bandanna. Camera in case around her neck, so photographer too.

Eleanor Joyce. Short dark bob. Gray trench coat, which her friends say make her look Victorian, until she points out the startling red streak in her hair. History textbooks- history student. Map in back pocket, but it's really new. Her friends bought it for her, so Eleanor got lost recently. Very recently, as her friend Katie is teasing her. "Can you get us out of Baker Street station, or do you need the map Chloe bought you?" Rachel and Chloe laugh as Eleanor chases Katie through the crowds of commuters, brandishing the map as if to attack her with it.

All safe. No ulterior motives, no ploy to get close to Jo- _him_ in order to hurt him.

The tall stranger with dark curly hair stood from his vantage point, brushing off his long black coat. Dropping his now-empty black coffee with two sugars into the bin, he turned his distinctive collar up and melted into the crowds.

John was safe. He couldn't come back yet, not with Moran up and plotting, but his strong army-doctor-blogger-_friend_ was coping without him. He was moving on, he was sure.

How wrong he was.

**Like what I did there? :) John chapter next!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Six months.

Six _bloody _months.

Six months since Sherlock jumped and left John alo-

_Sherlock._

A flood of memories. _Iraq or Afghanistan? I'd be lost without my blogger. Relax, you're doing fine. Are you alright? ARE YOU ALRIGHT? Happy New Year, John. Ashtray. I don't have friends. I've just got one._

_Goodbye, John._

Tears threaten. He thought he had cried enough. Apparently not.

Lestrade was shell-shocked. Mrs Hudson cried, and complained, and tried to get John to eat more. Tea and sandwiches would do for him. Molly was heartbroken,but seemed almost guilty. As if it was her fault, or there was something she wasn't telling them all. John felt the same, in many ways. Guilty, as if the "You machine" in parting before the fall pushed him off. And something was broken inside, and it was his heart, but _not like that._ John made Sherlock human, and Sherlock made John whole. That wholeness fell off a _bloody_ hospital roof.

But he kept on. Working still, but not the same. Eating, but little, and only when needed. Drinking tea more than he did anything else.

The first three months, he was silent. Spoke to no-one but Sherlock's grave. Which he did often, then. But now, he went out for drinks with Greg often, and had coffee with Molly when work would allow. Mrs Hudson complained less, and gave him space, but still mothered him obsessively. He wasn't dating. No-one would want him broken, as he was now.

Mrs Hudson kept telling him four students were moving in downstairs. Why should he care? He didn't want new friends. He liked his small circle of Molly, Greg and Mrs Hudson. He only wanted one other friend. And he was dead and buried.

Noise downstairs. Oh yeah. The students were moving in today. Maybe he should go say hello. Hope they weren't too loud or nosy. Or think Sherlock was a fake. He was not. A. Fake.

Tea first.

Always tea first.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

"Are you sure you aren't too young? I wasn't this young, but then kids now-"

"We're all 18, Mrs Hudson, all 18." Smiled Katie.

"Thanks for renting to us," said Chloe brightly. "Loads of other places didn't want four students!"

"Can't think why, all you do is chat." Muttered Rachel, staggering under the weight of a box of books which she dumped in the hallway.

"Oh no, I would love some life around the place, John's not been the same since-"

"Ever heard of Sherlock Holmes, ladies?" The women spun to see a straight-backed man on the landing, proud, yet with a broken, lonely feel to him. "John Watson. Dr Watson, the consulting detective's loyal _blogger._" He said bitterly, looking down.

"...Yes. We read your blog." Eleanor spoke quietly. "We believe in Sherlock Holmes."

John's head snapped up, and he was silent for a moment. Then, he smiled. "Can I help you with anything?"

After everything was in their small flat and tea with biscuits had been handed out, the girls relaxed on their beds. "Sooo... Neighbour?" Chloe raised her eyebrows.

"John Watson! THE John Watson!"

"How cool is that?"

"Ohmygod yeah!"

They all grinned.

"The flat?" Questioned Rachel.

"It'll do for us. But we need more beanbags." Mused Katie.

"Yes, of course, there _will_ be beanbags. The actual flat though?" General agreement that it was suitable.

"But we must buy beanbags." The others sighed, grinning.

"Right. I'm off." Eleanor said, stretching and standing. "Gotta go pick up Luna." Luna was Eleanor's cat, and practically light of her life. To say she was a cat person would be a _huge_ understatement. A larger than average cat, she was silver, with marking like a snow leopard. Luna was unusual- friendly, loyal, playful, loved water- and seemed to think she was a dog. The girls loved her.

As Eleanor left 221c she checked with Mrs Hudson. "you sure you don't mind a cat about the place?"

"Oh no, it's fine, she can't make any more mess than Sherlock did. Do you know, there are still bullet holes in my wall?"

"Well, I guarantee she won't do that!" They laughed, and Eleanor left.

"CHLOE!" Rachel yelled.

"Yes?" came the absent-minded reply.

"What's the best way to set a broken femur? And what's that YouTube video called?"

"Stop procrastinating-"

"Hypocrite."

"-and do your work. I don't know a thing about lemurs-"

"FEMURS!"

"-whatever, have you seen my pencils?"

"Your handbag. Cuppa for your_ favourite_ flatmate?"

Chloe grumbled, but made the tea and sat at the table where Rachel was frowning at her dark blue laptop. Moving some of the medical books, papers and other general clutter made by Rachel working, Chloe accidentally pushed her scratched and chipped phone off the table. Again. It had been through worse. Chloe was somewhat accident prone, and her phone tended to bear the brunt. "Oops."

Rachel sighed and smiled, sipping her tea. "Do I get some tea?" Asked Katie and Chloe's finger sent her in the direction of the steaming cups on the worktop. Slumping in her chair, Katie dug out a biochemistry book and settled down to read.

After an hour had slipped by, Chloe went into London to get "inspiration" (or hit the high street, as she almost invariably returned with some shade of neon shoes), Katie went to the Judo dojo and Rachel left for the pool. After picking up Luna, Eleanor met up with Chloe and they shopped together.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

It was evening. The girls were well fed, and ate on beanbags Katie had bought after Judo. John had eaten some pasta. Not a lot, but it pleased Mrs Hudson, and he was feeling a little better today.

There was a small knock at John's door. He opened it in confusion, as he rarely got visitors, and never at this hour. So it surprised him to find one of the students, Rachel, with a laptop looking nervous.

"Hey John." She smiled. She looked nice when she smiled.

"Rachel, right? Hi."

"Um, yeah. Listen, um, could you help me with something? It's just, I've got some work and, I need some help, and you're a doctor, so..." She trailed off. Then he remembered. The doctor in training. He smiled.

"Yeah, sure, come in. Excuse the mess, sit down there and I'll get you some tea."

"Thanks." Rachel sat and opened her laptop. John sat beside her on the sofa and handed her a mug.

"Issue?" He questioned.

"Ok. Here, what to do with bullet wounds."

A different flood of memories. _Hot, dusty, guns, screams..._He shook himself.

"Uh, yeah, well..."

After half an hour, Rachel went back to her flat, leaving John more aware of it's emptiness than ever. John had, well... _enjoyed_ himself. It was fun, chatting with his new neighbour, about work, life - anything, really. He told her that if she ever needed any help, she could come right up. She smiled, in that infectious, pretty way and thanked him. He hoped she needed help more often. He liked her company, and was more lonely than he liked to admit.

Rachel left 221b grinning. She had enjoyed herself, even if it was just college work and chatting. John was good company. The others would tease her, yeah, but it was worth it.

She was right. They did tease, and relentlessly.

"Look! Nothing is going on, he just helped me with college work!"

"That's what they all say..." grinned Katie.

"Oh, we're just teasing. Said Chloe. "You do fancy him though." Rachel went bright red and objected, throwing her pillow at the girls giggling on their beds.

"Ok. He's good fun-"

"And handsome." added Eleanor.

"Yes, fine, but..."

"He's older than you and you're worried he doesn't care." Eleanor finished, stroking a sleeping Luna like an evil mastermind. "I can read you like a book."

Rachel sighed. "Seriously, have I moved in with physics, or the Spanish Inquisition?"

"NO ONE EXPECTS THE SPANISH INQUISTION!" yelled Katie, causing the girls to laugh so much they woke Luna.

"Anyway, _before _we were side-tracked by Monty Python, I believe we were discussing Rachel..." said Chloe.

"Yes, fine, I do fancy him. But it isn't anything, and probably won't be. So leave it."

"No! We must sell it to _The Sun_!" Laughed Katie. They all grinned, rolled their eyes and went to sleep.

"So. The students moved in recently, right?" Greg sat with John in the pub.

"Yeah. Four girls."

"Good looking?" The DI grinned.

"Really Greg. Molly would kill you if she heard you now." Greg and Molly started dating two months after the... _incident._ It was one of the events that told John he had to eat. They were serious, and John would rather die than turn up at their wedding underfed. Military pride and all that.

"Good thing she can't then." The two friends laughed.

"Alright. Yeah, they aren't too bad."

"I may have to pop in. But there is one, isn't there?" John looked down.

"Don't know what you mean, detective inspector."

"Don't give me that, you only call me _detective inspector _when you're lying."

"How do you know?" Wailed John. "No-one knows, hell, _I_ didn't know until you asked, but yes. Rachel has caught my eye, and she can have my heart too. If she wants it." Greg raised an eyebrow. "Don't be thick Greg, she won't want me. I'm broken. You know that."

"No I don't. You're getting better. And maybe a girlfriend will help. And I thought Molly would never so much as _speak _to me after _that_ party." John winced at the memory.

"She'll want someone her age, not mine." Greg patted his mate's shoulder.

"See how it goes. And Molly says you owe her a coffee."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Rachel got help from John regularly over the next two weeks, although quite often they just ended up drinking tea and chatting. Her college grades improved, and the others settled in well too.

John had the promised coffee with Molly, who had become good friends with the girls, especially Katie. Gradually, John was feeling happier. These girls had changed him, and his life. Upside-down, but in a good way.

John will never, ever forget one evening. Ever.

Three weeks since the students moved in downstairs. In the bedroom, the girls were changing. The plan was to go clubbing, for the sheer hell of it. Rachel was wearing heels, black mini shorts and a sparkly silver top. Katie was wearing a gold mini dress and matching sandals and Eleanor was going for a purple sarong and a white Hollister top. Chloe, was currently hurling most of her wardrobe around panicking. "Look, Chloe-" Rachel was cut off by Katie.  
"CHLOE. Wear that top," pointing at a multicolour t-shirt.

"And these." Finished Eleanor, who was waving a pair of pink and black flowered leggings.

"Oh yeah." Chloe stopped. "Ok." She smiled.

Out in the hall, Chloe explained their absence to Mrs Hudson in note form while Eleanor checked she had her keys and had locked the flat.

"Guys. I have a great idea." They all turned to Katie who had spoken. "Let's get John out and about a bit."

"Are you suggesting asking him to come? That's genius!" Eleanor grinned. Rachel sighed and followed the others who were racing upstairs calling for John.

John opened the door and the girls yelled greetings, grabbed his arm and dragged him to his room. "What? What are you- What are you doing?"

"They are finding you clothes, to take you clubbing with us." Supplied Rachel.

A chorus of "No! You have no suitable clothes! What about- no. Try that, yeah, that'd do!" and similar emerged from the bedroom.

"To be fair, I don't go clubbing much." John defended his wardrobe. "Who says I'm even going?" Three heads appeared round the door purely to glare at him.

"Yeah. You're going." Said Rachel.

"It'll be good for you. You need to get out more." Was Chloe's excuse.

"Besides, we might need someone to look after us." Katie batted her eyelids.

John groaned, one hand on hip, the other covering his eyes. "Do I even want to know what outfit you've chosen?" The heads grinned and disappeared. Victory!

It wasn't too bad really. White shirt, jeans and smart shoes. The place was more of a bar with a dancefloor and DJ, and he wasn't the oldest there. John was expecting flashing lights, drunk young men and feeling like a grandpa walking in on a grandchild's wild party. Instead, John was pleasantly surprised.

At the start, the girls danced and largely ignored John, who was nursing a beer by the bar. He was so out of his comfort zone he didn't notice the woman was trying to chat him up until she gave up in a huff. John just kept watching Rachel dance. She looked so beautiful and happy.

When everyone in the place was between the stages of 'roaring' and 'tipsy', a slow dance came on. Eleanor, Chloe and Katie had found young men to dance with who were, by John's high standards for "his" girls, suitable. Rachel came over to John and finished his beer, looking flushed. "No partner? Can't see why not." said John, who was pretty tipsy at this stage.

"Nah." John paused, balled up his drunken courage and asked what he had wanted to all evening.

"Dance with me? I mean, I'm pretty rubbish, but it beats watching." Rachel smiled and accepted, and John walked her to the floor.

It was... intimate. They swayed and smiled in a way they would never have done sober. It was the part of the night both would remember vividly, and smile fondly upon in future. Besides, they could never forget, as the other girls came, saw and teased.

The next morning was painful for John. He had a hangover, and spent the night on the couch in favour of the walk to bed. Said couch was not in favour any longer. Tea and peace was all he needed. He was to get neither, as at 9:00 AM there was a knock on his door, which opened to be Katie, Chloe and Rachel.

"Hi John!" chorused Katie and Chloe. Rachel managed a weak smile. "We're here to take you shopping. Dancing with us could become a regular occurrence, and you need appropriate clothes." announced Chloe brightly.

"Jesus, don't you guys get hangovers?"

"Yes." Said Rachel. She looked about as tired as John felt. "Well, Eleanor and I do, which is why she's not here." Rachel and John locked eyes, and glanced away quickly.

"Ok, fine." John sighed. If there was one thing he had learned from last night, it was that arguing was pointless. "But I'm only paying if it's within my budget."

Katie and Chloe were now shopping alone, after buying John clothes he would never usually even look at, but grudgingly admitted didn't look too bad. He and Rachel were now sitting on a bench relaxing. They exchanged small talk, but today was the seven-month anniversary of Sherlock's death. John fell into silence, immersed in memories.

"Tell me about him." John shook himself.

"Sorry?"

"About Sherlock. I mean you obviously loved him-" John glared "- I mean platonically, and all. So tell me. I've been told I'm a good listener, and problem shared, problem halved."

So John talked. He told her everything, from their first meeting, to insignificant things Sherlock once said. And she was right. Rachel _was_ a good listener, and talking made him feel better.

After some companionable silence, the other two returned. The girls walked John to his shift at the surgery, and went back to the flat. They walked in, calling to Eleanor to see what they bought, as they always did. No reply. A note on the counter. It worried them. It was common practise if one of the girls went out to leave one, but what the note said was what worried them.

IF YOU WANT

TO SEE YOUR

FRIEND AGAIN,

COME TO THE

ALLEY OFF BAKER

STREET. QUICKLY.

**Sorry for delay in posting! Took longer than expected to type, and there was a party, and family came over... Ok, I'm just making excuses now. Always forget to tell you all how happy reviews make me!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

**Evening**

Pain. White, blinding pain. Cuts and bruises all over and a massive slash on her leg, she could feel the blood pouring from it. Head pounding from a hangover remnant and the _damn_ chloroform. Cracking open her eyes, Eleanor quickly wished she hadn't. Her jeans were caked with blood. A small detached part of her brain was thankful she had got dressed. That would have been seriously demeaning. There were two men with guns and alcohol jeering at her. Her captors.

"Hiii, my deeeaar giirll..." Drawled one imitating an Irish accent. He sounded mad and dangerous. On it's own accord, her mouth moved.

"What's with the accent, leprechaun? It's not your natural voice."

The man screamed at her and smashed a bottle on the floor. Oh yeah, dangerous. South-east England though. Not Irish. Sad and angry about this. Eleanor's brain was cataloguing facts like it did in History class. Blond hair. Green eyes. Tall, 6ft 5" probably. She tugged at her restraints, but it just made her arms hurt and the men laugh. They sat by a fire in a barrel and leered at her. Eleanor shivered.

Sherlock Holmes was proud and happy. Moriarty's ring had been eliminated, for the exception of Sebastian Moran, and he could see John again. They could take Moriarty's right-hand down together. He had no idea how receptive the world would be of him, but it was going to have to get used to having him around again.

Katie was panicking. The police did not believe them, as a police car had just passed the alley and seen nothing. John was at the surgery and could not help. They were going it alone, and terrified.

The three girls reached the alley and crept behind the two men. Katie got one with a judo throw while Rachel grabbed the blonde man in a choke hold with her strong swimmer's muscles. Chloe ran up and freed Eleanor. One assailant was out cold, but the blonde was only acting. The girls ran out, Katie carrying Eleanor on her back. A shot rang out. Katie, Chloe and Eleanor continued.

Sherlock was walking through the back-streets near Baker Street when the shot was fired. He veered off the route he was taking. Seeing the man with the gun, he disarmed and disabled him easily. Good long-distance aim, bad at hand to hand. He realised he was looking at Sebastian Moran, the man he was after. Sherlock handcuffed him to a railing, deduced the direction of the bullet and set off.

At the flat they realised Rachel was missing. Chloe called her mobile, to hear it ring from the table. They called 999.

A tall man was walking towards Rachel. She tensed,but he raised his arms in a peace gesture and she went back to trying to stem the blood gushing from the bullet hole in her thigh. The stranger picked her up. At her protests, he replied in his calm, smooth baritone, "Please calm down. I am taking you to hospital. My name is Sherlock Holmes." A thrill ran down him at being able to finally use his own name again. She relaxed at the name.

"Oh. Ok then." Her relaxation at his name confused, but pleased Sherlock.

John was pacing outside the hospital room Rachel was in. The nurse told him a young man had brought her in. He smiled politely and promised himself he would thank him if- _when_ Rachel was better. Not now. The nurse wittered on, John hardly concentrating until; "Oh! Here he is. Dr Watson, this is the man who brought Miss Hunter in. This is Sherlock Holmes."

Rachel rolled her eyes. These people were being stupid and slow and calling it _protocol._ She hated damn _protocol._ "I'm not bloody in bloody SHOCK! Just let me see visitors, damn it!"

"Just a sec miss, how many-"

"Four fingers and a thumb. DON'T. EVEN. BOTHER."

The attendant bloke sighed and patted the bed. "Alright. Visitors welcome." As he left, she remembered their slightly dramatic entrance.

_Sherlock strode up to the front desk and the new student receptionist at A&E. "Good evening sir, how can I help you?"_

"_Shut up, there's a bullet in her leg." Rachel smiled cheekily from Sherlock's arms._

"_He's right. There is." The receptionist fainted. "Sherlock, press the intercom won't you? Yeah, that one. Ok. Hi. I'm Rachel Hunter age 18 accompanied by Sherlock Holmes. There is a bullet hole in my thigh, one inch deep. Hand gun bullet. I am not in shock. Pressure has been applied to the wound and I am medically trained. Thanks!" Sherlock smiled and together they sat in the waiting room giggling while everyone in earshot went off their heads. Sherlock insisted on carrying her as far as possible and got someone to notify her flatmates and John. He was waiting in reception._

John froze until the nurse had left. "John." Oh, the memories, the pain, that _voice_... Then he refocussed on the sign on the door saying _Patient R. Hunter._ He spoke in a low monotone.

"No."

"John?" Pain, confusion. He had suffered too. _Patient R. Hunter._

"No. Not now. Go back to being dead."

Silence. Then a small voice. "Why?"

"BECAUSE, Sherlock, Rachel needs me! Yeah, ok, so do you. But I love her. Don't think I don't love you, but only as a friend."

"And you love her as... _more_ than a friend?"

"Yes. Trust me Sherlock, we are hashing this out later, and I _will_ punch you. You have been warned. But when Rachel has recovered." John could sense Sherlock nod and leave.

When Rachel was bandaged up and ready to receive visitors ("Honestly, I was ready_ ages_ ago...") her three friends were first in. They seemed cautious, as if she might get worse if they stepped on the wrong bit of floor or spoke too loud and almost guilty about what had occurred. After reassurances and jokes however, they were soon back to themselves.

"You know what, I'm quite jealous of you." Chloe mused.

"You. Are jealous. I was shot!" Exclaimed Rachel. "Why the hell are you jealous?"

"Days off work." Pointed out Eleanor. "I get a week and crutches, you get a month. I was the kidnapped one!"

"Can't think of anything more dull. It'll be alright, but there's only so many _Top Gear_ and _Doctor Who_ reruns." Grumbled Rachel.

"That's not actually what I was on about." Revealed Chloe. "I mean, you just _would_ be shot with "sexy detective" _Sherlock Holmes_ hanging about, ready to take you, knight-in-shining-armour style to hospital."

"Oh, Chloe you old romantic. I'd go no-wound-no-Sherlock if I had the choice," grinned Katie. "Although, he _is_ a looker..." The girls giggled.

When the Girls left, John came in. he looked caring, kind, worried, and sad, in a way Rachel had never seen him. Katie had tapped on a radio in the corner when they left. The voice of James Morrison flew from the speakers.

"Hey John."

"You alright?" It seemed as if his life depended on her answer, so she didn't kid around.

"Yeah. Stable. I'll be fine. You... don't look so good. Are_ you_ ok?"

John took a deep breath. "As long as you are ok, I am." Rachel looked a bit confused at this. And just a bit hopeful. "What I mean is... if there's love just feel it, if there's life we'll see it. This is no time to be alone, lone, yeah." John sang in time. He had a beautiful voice, made extra special as he was singing _for her. To her. _

"I wont let you go." they sang together. John thought Rachel's voice was better than anything else.

"I love you Rachel. Always have."

"I love you John. Always will."

The Nurse walked in to the end of "I won't let you go" and John's snores. They were sleeping hand in hand, John resting his head on Rachel's bed. Both had smiles like they'd conquered the world. Smiling, the nurse shut the door.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Sherlock walked up to Lestrade's door. He was not actually sure how the man would react. His tongue explored the cavity in the back of his mouth. John had knocked out his left wisdom tooth and given him various cuts and bruises from their scuffle on the floor, then almost crushed the air out of Sherlock, sobbing into his purple shirt. Sherlock found that he did not mind, and also that he was crying into his blogger's ash-blonde hair. They stayed like that for almost five minutes.

Mrs Hudson had almost fainted, and then attacked him repeatedly with a rolled-up newspaper, crying and shouting shrilly. Molly had squeaked at his sudden return, she knew he was alive but he always made her nervous. Less so now, thanks to the man he was visiting. Sherlock took a deep breath, and knocked.

Greg Lestrade was having a Bad Day. There was all that kidnapping paperwork to handle which he hadn't even started. Moran had escaped, damn him, and the other operative was being uncooperative. All that he wanted to do was bring Molly back to his house for dinner. Hopefully more. There was a knock, disturbing his daydream. Rolling his eyes, he yelled "Yeah? Come on in."

At his entrance Greg stood up so fast his chair fell over with a loud crash. There was a silence, neither wanting to say the obvious.

"Are you-"

"I'm real."

"Good. Don't want to look like a fool."

Greg was fast. Real fast. Sherlock reeled.

"Well, at least wisdom teeth are useless. I'll have none left by the end of the day."

Greg grinned. "You bastard, I think even Anderson and Donovan missed you. Well, they had a lot of post-Sherlock "floor scrubbing"- yeah, I can tell, no need to look incredulous." Sherlock grimaced. There was a silence, then "I missed you Sherlock, you arrogant son of a bitch."

"I missed you too, Greg." Lestrade looked shocked. "My time away... I was lonely. I need company more than I like to admit. And I jumped to save you, you know." Greg was now in fully-fledged confusion. "There were _snipers,_ Greg. On you, and Mrs Hudson, and John. It was the fall, or without the people who care most for me, and who I care most for."

"Mycroft-"

"Is not much company, trust me."

Greg picked up his chair and sat down. "Well. Here for a case?"

Angharad came back to a quiet flat. She was instantly on guard. Her flatmate Maddie was ill, so could not go out and was never quiet. She snored or chatted or laughed or sang. _Never_ silent. "Maddie?" into the kitchen. Angharad screamed. She was found unconscious having hit her head after fainting next to Maddie, who was only recognisable by her face, which was a mask of pain and fear. Her body had been turned inside out, her organs on the floor, her blood on the wall. Written in it was "IOU".

Got something for you GL

Greg Lestrade 10:40 AM

Where? SH

Sherlock Holmes 10:40 AM

37 Northumberland ave. Its nasty. GL

Greg Lestrade 10:40 AM

On my way. SH

Sherlock Holmes 10:40 AM

Sherlock crossed to where his long coat was hanging and put it on. John put down his Mac. "Where you off to?"

"Particularly nasty crime scene... You coming?"

"Yeah, alright." John grinned. Sherlock grinned back and threw John his jacket, swirling out the door.

They were not to leave so soon however, as the door was blocked. Chloe, Eleanor and Katie were in front of the door and looking defiant. As the men looked on in confusion, they chorused "We're coming."

"No you aren't." Sherlock replied.

"Resistance is futile," Muttered John. "It's a nasty one, are you sure?"

"We're coming." they repeated.

"Rachel might hate you." John's final defence.

Pause. "We're coming." Sherlock hailed a cab.

At the scene, Sherlock went straight to the DI, ignoring the trail of startled/shocked/confused police officers in his wake. "Where?" he demanded.

"Nice to see you too. In here, kitchen. Who are these?"

"Couldn't stop them. Flatmates from downstairs, keen to come along." As John introduced, Sherlock went straight to the body.

"Oh my god," breathed Katie. "this is Maddie and Angharad's house."

"Just Angharad's now, I'm afraid. She's over there, but in shock, so mind." Greg said. Katie turned green and ran behind a wall. She returned to look after Angharad. She looked like she needed the support. Maddie, Katie and Angharad were good friends who went to college together.

"Any witnesses?" John sighed.

"No, but I mean, look at the wall. Take a wild guess."

"You think he's back?" John paled slightly.

"No." came Sherlock's definitive reply. "This was not Moriarty, or even his network. A "wannabe", yes. The man you, or rather _I_ am looking for is-"

"Moran, right?" Heads turned to the new voice. Rachel was in the doorway on her crutches. "Well, it's logical."

"Someone is meant to be resting." said John as he walked over, putting his hands on her hips and kissing her hair. "Doctor's orders."

"Yeah, like she ever listened to her doctors." Smiled Eleanor.

"Boyfriend's orders?"

"Amounts to the same thing. I was bored, Jawn!" Rachel pulled a face. John rolled his eyes and smiled. God knows he'd heard _that_ before.

The rest of Scotland Yard were gaping like they'd never seen love before. Until Chloe poked the nearest one saying "Oi! Goldfish! Flies will go in!" Anderson, the victim, felt patronised and proceeded to poke her back, commencing an amusing poke war. Chloe won, by unanimous decision.

"Anyway, we want Moran." said Eleanor. "The guy who kidnapped me, but got away. He was imitating Moriarty. He seemed... insane, like he loved him or something."

Sherlock stood. "The game, is ON!"

In his mind palace, Sherlock went through possibilities. Random attack- no. connected to Katie, connected to all of them. Trying to get to Sherlock- likely. It was a Moriarty-type approach, but poorly done. It got to Katie, and through her to the other girls, but not to him. Maybe it was a distraction. Again, poorly done, as there was only one objective now; find Moran.

Eleanor hunched inside her trench coat against the rain that had sprung up. She was on her way back from college, but the crime scene had made her late, hence her lack of preparation. Abruptly, the rain stopped, although she could still see it ahead of her. "Can I help you?" a soft, silky Irish voice drawled. Eleanor looked up to the smiling face of a young man with dark brown hair, holding an umbrella over her head. His eyes were chocolate brown and deep. If the eyes were windows to the soul then, well... Eleanor shook herself.

"Uh, well, my house is quite close, so I'll be fine..." Eleanor lied.

He laughed. "How far?" in mock disapproval of her lie.

Eleanor looked at her feet. "Twenty minutes."

"I've got time to kill. May as well spend it in good company. I'm Conor. Conor Reid."

Eleanor blushed. "Thanks. I'm Eleanor Joyce. My address is 221c Baker Street."

"ELEANOR!" Chloe hollered. "What's with the pink envelopes?" Eleanor's eyes widened. Katie and Rachel had never seen her leave the breakfast table so fast, not even for Cheerios.

"Those are mine!"

Chloe raised her arms in surrender. "Ok! Ok! I didn't open them or anything. Hand delivered. Snazzy."

"How do you know?" Frowned Katie.

Chloe grinned. "I saw him." Rachel and Katie gasped, then grinned.

"SPILL!" Katie was practically buzzing with excitement.

"Fair's fair, we all interrogate each other about our romance. I know from experience!" Rachel pointed out.

Eleanor sighed. "Two days ago, I met Conor Reid. We got chatting, and he's been sending me letters." The others sensed the current lack of story, and demanded updates as they came.

Also in the "221c romance-gossip column", Katie had a boyfriend. The young man, Nathaniel Farrier, who she had danced with at the club, had become serious. Short, spiky black hair and blue eyes, just a little bit taller than katie. They were almost constantly texting or dating and when together always in contact. It was, in John's own words, cute.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

"John." The snoring man woke abruptly.

"Huh? Wuh? Sherlock?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "I thought Rachel was making you sleep more."

"I am. Or rather, I was. Right then. What is it?" Sherlock handed him John's Mac, a web browser open. Ignoring the use of _his _laptop, John scanned the screen. "Oh god. A ball, courtesy of _Moran & co._"

Sherlock grinned. "A lead, John! We have to go."

"Only one problem, mate." John pointed at a line of type on the screen. "Bring a date. It's couples only."

"Yes. Us. That is two, John." Sherlock pointed out helpfully.

"Uh, no. I mean, yeah, it's two, I _know_ that. But no, we are not going as a couple."

Sherlock took it as on John's list of 'What we do not do'. Why was it all so stupidly complex? "Fine. You take Rachel. I shall persuade Conor and Nathaniel to take Eleanor and Katie, and I will take Chloe."

John looked shocked and amused. "Well done, Sherlock. Bringing the girls. And realising that they would prefer their boyfriends to ask them, instead of asking their young men. Chloe will _love_ it." John grinned. Sherlock appeared to be the only one unaware of Chloe's crush on him.

"Ok, laydeez, where to?" Rachel drawled. Her leg was practically healed and she was off the crutches. The girls looked around at the designer shops, so very out of their usual price range. Dior, Armarni, Gucci... These ball gowns were going to be the most expensive clothes they would ever own. Mycroft had arrived at the flat after they had all been invited to the ball to check what they would wear, surprising them in their pajamas. Fortunately Chloe had managed to persuade him they were going to wear something from the New Look sale. The British Government had gone white as a sheet at the thought that anyone even vaguely associated with him should wear something like _that_. So here they were, Bond Street, with 'Anthea' and Mycroft's personal funds shopping in the sun.

"I want to go to Armani." declared Eleanor. There, she found a purple chiffon one shoulder dress with a slit up the side almost to the hip and a small train. It's empire waist was embellished with gems.

Katie's dress was tailor-made while they shopped, and was long, white and smooth, with one shoulder strap decorated with sparkles.

Rachel's dress was Dior, and was a silver, off-the-shoulder floor length affair. The sleeves went to the wrist in glittery net and it had a low back.

Chloe had more trouble, but in Gucci found her own one sleeve dress, but sunset-style, ranging from midnight blue down to gold. Rubies were shining at the neck, the one sleeve's hem, which reached her wrist and the base which reached her ankles. It had a deep cleavage, which Chloe explained with two words: Sherlock Holmes. When you go dancing with a seriously hot man who you've been crushing on since you saw his picture in the paper, you don't cover up excessively. Dresses and shoes settled, they went home.

The night of the ball. John was neatening himself up in the mirror, ready to pick Rachel up and go. In his military dress uniform of a green jacket with badges, pins and ribbons, black trousers and polished black boots, Sherlock had to admit he looked calm, respectable and accomplished. Someone to look up to. Sherlock felt a surge of pride for all John had done, could do, and would do for other people. John noticed him watching. "Snappy." he commented. "I'd almost say dressed to impress." He turned to look properly, grinning. "Oh, very Bond. You've probably even got the revolver, but will Moran have a white cat?" Sherlock looked blank. John rolled his eyes, sighing. "Never mind." Sherlock was in a black tuxedo with a black bow tie. Every inch the secret agent.

Rachel was attempting to pin up her hair in the mirror, but largely just stabbing herself and cursing. Eleanor was nervously eating Cheerios straight out of the box while practising walking in high heels. Katie was waiting for people to arrive at the door and Chloe was practically bouncing off the walls in sheer excitement, instead of putting on her make-up.

Looking through the door's window, Katie called "Ooh! The illustrious Conor Reid is here!"

Eleanor squeaked. "Oh my god, I can't go in heels, I'll fall over and make a fool of myself..."

Rachel sighed. Chloe was introducing herself and Katie and chatting. "Ok, Eleanor. It's gonna be ok. Have a Cheerio. And a mint."

"Mint?"

"Well, go as Cheerio-breath when he wants to snog you if you like..." Rachel grinned at Eleanor's blush and sent her off with Conor.

"Eep! It's Nathaniel. Help me! Do I look alright?"

Chloe smiled. "You look fine. He loves you, he won't care anyway."

"Not the point, Chloe!"

Rachel swept in, hairpins clamped in her mouth. "You look great. Now can someone pin this please!" Chloe rolled her eyes, but did anyway. Nathaniel greeted Katie with kisses and compliments, and they left.

Rachel's hair was finally pinned up, and Chloe had calmed down long enough to put her make-up on. Each was sure the other looked better. The knock came.

Sherlock was confused. His stomach was churning, but he was not ill, or scared. He could dance if it was necessary, and he had survived Moriarty, so he could survive Moran. Yet again, Sherlock found himself envying John. He looked so relaxed, safe in the knowledge that if he turned up in a bin liner Rachel would love him anyway, after laughing non-stop for ten minutes. But Chloe... He didn't know. And that was probably the cause of the churning. John knocked, sensed Sherlock's wish to avoid his discomfort and stood on his foot. It clearly said "Don't go anywhere." Rachel opened the door. There was a moment of stunned silence as they regarded each other. John broke it by pulling her to him and kissing her. "You look gorgeous. Positively Elfin in your beauty."

"And you are Hobbity in your bravery and adorableness."

"That is the weirdest chat up line in history." They laughed, and went out to get a taxi. Leaving Sherlock. The churning in his stomach got worse. Chloe came to the door. Sherlock was glad she was looking at the floor so she didn't see his face. Shock, respect... She looked glorious. He didn't mind dancing with her anymore.

Chloe was regretting the amount of skin on show. She felt... Exposed, not what you want when with Sherlock. He looked more handsome than ever, if that was possible. "Good evening." _Better now you're here,_ her mind whispered. Oh, that _voice._

"Hello Sherlock." O_h, Chloe, control your voice! Stop shaking like a leaf! _"You look nice."_ NICE? Use your imagination!_

"So do you." Her head snapped up. Did he actually just say that? He offered his arm, which she took. She felt better about the dress neckline.

The taxi pulled up at a grand hall. "Come along, Miss Bennett." smiled John, holding out his arm. One of Rachel's favourite DVDs was the BBC _Pride and Prejudice._

"Anytime, Mr Darcy." Rachel smiled, taking his arm.

"Aaand, you just totally killed the period role play."

And so it was that John and Rachel were the only ones who entered the posh building giggling like loons.

Inside, they found Katie, Nathaniel, Eleanor and Conor chatting and sipping champagne. Katie almost waved madly, but managed to turn it into raising her glass. Once over there, John finally got a good chat with Conor. Fiercely protective of the girls, only the best young men would do. Fortunately, Conor ticked all the right boxes.

Ten minutes after Sherlock had swept in, Chloe on his arm, the food was served. The first of four courses was served, chicken-and-other-unidentifiable-stuff soup, so the cutlery was easy. Not so with the other courses. Thankfully Nathaniel knew the correct order- start at the edge and work inwards. Sherlock knew it too, but was less willing to share. There was a main course, fish course and pudding to add the the soup starter. Then finally, it was time to dance.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

The room was in motion. Couples walking to the dance floor and the musicians starting to play. John and Rachel waltzed to one corner and Nathaniel picked Katie up bride-style and gently placed her near the musicians to dance. Conor offered a hand, ignored Eleanor's protests and took her to the floor anyway. Leaving Sherlock and Chloe. The evening had been slightly awkward, with neither knowing what to say or do, but enjoying each other's company.

Sherlock broke the silence. "Chloe. Will you do me the honour of dancing with me?" Sherlock had no idea why he felt the need to be so polite to Chloe. Even if she thought he was ignoring her, he always listened. Especially if she was sad. But he never knew what to do. He surprised himself by being relieved by her acceptance.

When dancing, it did not get less awkward. "Why are you so tense, Chloe? Does dancing bother you?"

"I, I'm not so good at it." she mumbled in reply. _Liar, _thought Sherlock, but he let her continue. "You're tense too, yet you're a good dancer. Relax, do what feels right.

So he did. He kissed her. She kissed him back. Life had never been so simple – spend all time had with other person. Sherlock found the churning that had bothered him all night surge, and then settle. They broke apart. "Um, wow." said Chloe, blushing.

"I-I'm sorry, I-I have to go." Sherlock muttered, pink rising on his cheekbones. He almost ran off, leaving Chloe stranded on the dance floor, left only with her thoughts.

_Well, what were you expecting, s_he told herself. The annoying but true part of her brain said _Not to be snogged and then abandoned. Would you like to give that unexpected moment back?_ "Sherlock is the definition of unexpected." she muttered under her breath, stalking away from that spot.

_I wish he would unexpectedly fall in love with me._

Sherlock shook himself. The thoughts of Chloe showing more than just cleavage persisted. _Get a grip, damn it! You have to catch Moran... or he might find her. And hurt her._ That worked. He focussed, new determination in his eyes. Pretending to be a guest wanting to thank his host found him Moran's location, and pointed out how untouchable Moran was feeling.

When the music stopped, Nathaniel smiled at Katie and went to get drinks for them both. She headed to the toilet, he headed to the bar. Champagne in hand, he spotted Chloe looking alone and sad. "Hey, what's up? Love the dress, by the way." Chloe offered him a half-hearted smile and explained.

Katie shook the water off her hands and resisted the temptation the wipe them on her dress. In the mirror, she watched a man come in dressed entirely in white aside from a long black tie.

"Wrong bathroom." Katie smiled.

"Oh, no, right one. You're here." Katie watched him pull a gun from a pocket in his now-sinister white suit, her smile dropping. "This way, please."

Nathaniel frowned. Where was Katie? And Sherlock? "Chloe, I'm just gonna go look for Sherlock, okay? If Katie comes, tell her where I am." She nodded and sipped her drink. Standing, he looked around the ballroom and saw Sherlock disappear round a corner. Nathaniel walked briskly to catch up. "Hey! Wait up. What's the deal with Chloe? I me-"

"Shush. Now." Sherlock growled. "I will explain to her later. There are more pressing matters right now."

"_More pressing_? She's beating herself up out there and there's something _more pressing_?"

Sherlock sighed, exasperated. "Yes, like the killer running this event."

Nathaniel blanched. "Whaaat?"

"This way."

Katie was very obedient with guns around. Besides, heels were not exactly judo gear. They had done an activity with the women in high heels and she had ended up with a twisted ankle. Her opponent broke her foot. Yeah, not ideal. She sat in the steel throne gestured at, looking calm but only because her brain was running on auto pilot. None of the usual adrenalin that came with judo, just mind blanking _fear._ Handcuffs clamped over her wrists with a clang. Not going anywhere, then. Speakers boomed. "Ladies and gentlemen, good evening." Katie flinched at the noise, and realised it was echoing through the entire building. _Well, if they talk to me they talk to everyone._ _Just haven't worked out if that's a good thing or not yet. _"Much as I hate to interfere with everyone's digestion, I am afraid you are going to die." The voice was matter-of-fact and relaxed. Katie could hear the shocked silence. What was Nathaniel doing?

Sherlock and Nathaniel froze at the announcement. "Wher-Where's Katie?" Nathaniel's voice was trembling ever so slightly.

"Shh." Nathaniel gaped at him until the voice returned.

"As you may or may not be aware,a young lady has been missing from your _delightful_ company for a minute now. She will be our _audience volunteer._ In exactly one minute from the end of the this message, gas will enter the room. She will die in thirty seconds. Oh, for those interested, her name is... well, why don't you tell us, pretty bitch?"

The guard in white came over and thrust a microphone under Katie's nose. Detachedly she noted she was saying her name. Yup, auto pilot alright.

Nathaniel clenched his fists. He was getting her back. "Where. Is. She?" he demanded of Sherlock.

After a second's thought, Sherlock sprinted off, knowing he would follow. They raced through the hallways and corridors, until they reached a door with the guard in white leaving the room beyond. Before the man had time to react to the intruders Nathaniel punched him between the eyes. The guard's eyes rolled up and he crumpled to the floor. Picking up the microphone, Sherlock turned it on.

"Colonel Sebastian Moran. Why are you doing this?"

"Ah, Mister Sherlock Holmes, I presume. You _are_ the genius, are you not? _You_ tell _me_." Moran's voice crackled.

"Revenge for the dead man. The one who shot himself on the roof of Bart's. The one for whom you hold me responsible. James Moriarty, ladies and gentlemen. But he was more than just your boss, wasn't he?"

Something smashed and Moran growled.

Sherlock began to hum Staying Alive into the microphone. Moran screamed. Yelling incomprehensibly, the Colonel failed to notice his assailant. There was a thud.

"No-one calls _my_ girl a bitch." Nathaniel growled.

Sherlock moved quickly into the room and analysed. Chair and cuffs – steel. Electric release. Controls in corner. Gas comes from sprinkler system. Katie – unharmed. Instantly he set out to the control panel. Katie was too shocked to do anything. Or warn him of the approaching guard about to hit him over the head with a lead pipe. Sherlock spun, saw there was nothing he could do, and braced for impact. A shot. No pain. That was... unexpected. A voice.

"Why is it that when you go off and do something unexpectedly stupid I have to shoot someone?"

_Oh, John._

The next hour was a blur of police-orange blankets, statements and slightly blurred facts. Katie was sitting on the back of an ambulance enveloped by a shock blanket and a protective Nathaniel's arms. John's hand in Rachel's was shaking slightly with unspent adrenalin. Eleanor was trying to calm down Conor, who was more than a tad bit surprised at the turn of events.

Sherlock finished yelling at Lestrade and stomped over to Chloe who was sitting on a bench. Slumping beside her he grumbled "If Lestrade and his incompetent excuse for a force had got here quicker this could have been dealt with much better."

"Hey, not everyone's as smart as you." Chloe reminded him.

"A fact drummed into me every time I leave 221. If only people would just-"

A delicate hand covered his mouth.

"I just complimented you. Now shut up and thank me."

A kiss, Chloe decided, from the man that you love is the best thank you ever.


	11. Chapter 11

**Hey! Thanks for reading. In case you hadn't already guessed, I really don't own Sherlock. If I did, I would be in it and married to John. The BBC has the pleasure of calling Sherlock their own. I kept forgetting to do that... :P Constructive crit is most welcome!**

**Chapter 11**

Snuggled on the sofa with chocolate, red wine, Men in Black and John was the best way of spending an evening to Rachel. John always let her have the orange chocolates, and she let him eat all the nutty ones. Coffee flavour was always, by mutual agreement, left. It never failed to make Rachel smile how they could go from ballgowns and and killers to pajamas and aliens. Her life was mad, and she loved it. Specifically, she loved John. After the movie, however, he looked a bit sad. "Hey, I thought you liked that film?" Rachel questioned, confused.

"I do. It's just... Rachel. I feel like Agent K sometimes. Older and slower. Like I don't smile. And that you deserve better."

"John, I love you, don't say that. Since when has that mattered? I don't want someone my own age, I want you. You're a great guy."

"No I'm really not. I shot someone last night! And he wasn't the first, either. You should have left me for someone young and heavy-conscience free ages ago."

Rachel's eyes shone with unshed tears at how selfless he was being for her. "What can you deduce about how I haven't left you then? That I really love you, idiot."

Mrs Hudson found them in the morning entwined on the sofa in front of the TV in 221B. Rachel was sleeping, and John was stroking her hair in favour of disturbing her slumber. "Morning" John whispered, smiling.

"Bacon and eggs for two?" She enquired. "Only because Rachel's over, mind."

"Sounds lovely."

_Mwahahahah!_

Katie rolled over at her text alert fumbling on her bedside table for her iPhone.

morning babe xx

Nathaniel Farrier 08:02 AM

hello alarm clock :) love u xx

Katie Eveleigh 08:02 AM

haha c u biochem? Xx

Nathaniel Farrier 08:02 AM

yup xx

Katie Eveleigh 08:02 AM

meet train. 5 mins! Xx

Nathaniel Farrier 08:02 AM

Katie began to hurl clothes on, washing her face and adding mascara and concealer. In the kitchen she set off some toast, found jam and a knife and ate fast. Grabbing her bag, she stuck a post-it to the fridge.

Gone biochem, see u all soon! K

At 08:05 Eleanor woke. She found some jeans and a t-shirt with Simon's cat on, dressing while Luna leapt off the end of her bed and waited at her bedroom door. Blinking away sleep as she wandered into the kitchen, she filled Luna's bowl and set out some water. Which was batted out of the bowl the moment she turned her back. Eleanor sighed and munched her cheerios. "Are you gonna do that again? Cos I'm not giving you any more."

"Mrow."

_Beep. Beep. Be-_

Chloe rolled over, slamming her hand on the alarm's off switch. Ten past eight. Damn. Four hours sleep, and class today. At least she didn't have to work as well. Endless hours reliving the kisses were not going to boost her grades. Shower, clothes, food. Good plan. In the kitchen Luna rubbed against her legs in greeting and Eleanor waved a spoon sleepily. "Morning. Uh, Eleanor, don't you have class today?"

"Yeah, half past."

Chloe threw her a packet of Doritos, saying "Ten minutes!" Eleanor rolled her eyes, grabbed her bag and left, calling a farewell as she went.

When on the street, she had to dig her Nokia from her pocket when the familiar strains of Horrible Histories' Charles II emanated from her pocket, alerting Eleanor to a call. "Hello?"

"Hey. How're you?" Conor. Eleanor smiled.

"Yeah, good. You?"

Oh, I'm fine. You sound like you're walking. Where to?"

"History class, I'm late."

"Let me give you a lift."

"Conor! You don't have to, you don't even know where I am!"

"Oh, I wouldn't bet on it." Eleanor spun to face the road, where Conor's green Ford was waiting, his grinning face watching her. She grinned back, sliding in.

"Don't sneak up on me! Anyone listening will think you're a stalker!"

Conor's grin only widened.

"Do you have class today?" John asked from his armchair, laptop on his knee.

"Nah." Rachel was finishing her bacon at the only square of non-contaminated table. "Week off, to the envy of my flatmates."

"Uh huh. Tell me, where would you go on a city break?"

"Venice. Are you plotting something, Dr Watson?" Rachel attempted to peer at the web browser, but John quickly shut the lid.

"Never, Miss Hunter. Now go get dressed."

When she was out the door, he reopened the lid, entered 'Venice' into the search bar and booked three days for two from the next day.

Art held no focus for Chloe. Sherlock kept shoving all thought of brush strokes and canvas out of her head and taking it over. Art just did not compare to intelligence and wit of the Sherlock variety. That is, until it was time to use the techniques learnt to paint anything desired. For an hour while her classmates painted flowers she sketched and painted a face. Curls, cheekbones, collars and curved cherub lips. All that eluded her was the eyes. Cold, deductive and ice-grey, or in a rare laughing emerald green? Eventually, they were ice, but with the rarely seen sparkle that heralded a new lead on a case. When she handed it in, Chloe discovered she was wrong that morning. Sherlock did improve her grades.

this is dull. rthr b xing u xx

Nathaniel Farrier 11:46 AM

ur dstrctng me. I agree tho xx

Katie Eveleigh 11:46 AM

ur blushing ;) xx

Nathaniel Farrier 11:46 AM

shut it, damn u! xx

Katie Eveleigh 11:46 AM

its gttng wrse... xx

Nathaniel Farrier 11:46 AM

_Katie's phone is currently switched off. Please try again later._

Katie watched as her boyfriend's shoulders shook with uncontrollable silent laughter. She also watched him be sent out of the classroom to "calm down" with some degree of satisfaction.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

When Rachel awoke the next morning, there was a note about an inch from her eyes. Moving it far away enough to read, she saw:

_Pack for three days in a hot place._

Sitting up, she realised her room was covered in notes, all, like the first, in John's handwriting. On her alarm was one reading

_Hurry up! Your time runs out at 9!_

On the bathroom door was

_Don't forget your washbag!_

Her black case was at the bottom of her bed, so, thoroughly confused, Rachel packed as requested.

When finished, Rachel read the note on the door.

_I'm outside. I love you x_

Wheeling her case out, she found John waiting for her with a similar size case. He smiled and kissed her cheek.

Smiling back, she asked "Where are we off to?"

"Ah, that's a secret."

"You have way too much pleasure in keeping stuff from me."

Laughing, they got in a cab.

Chloe decided to go out for an early-morning walk. Once dressed, she discovered a note on her door.

_Don't panic – taking Rachel on a surprise holiday to Venice. Back thurs. - John._

She smiled to herself – it was just like him, and Rachel would love it. Closing the door behind her, she saw a lovely springer spaniel puppy sitting by a motorbike. "Hello!" she crooned, crouching down to it's height. "Who do you belong to? The owner of this bike? Are you waiting? That's a good dog." The dog barked as if in response and she smiled. Then frowned. "Hey, where's your collar? Well, not every dog has a collar I guess. Well, see you."

Wandering through Regent's Park, her thoughts returned to the dog. It really was lovely, and she had always loved springer spaniels. Chloe could in fact convince herself she could still hear the dog... A loud bark sounded from around her ankles, causing her to shriek and jump about a foot in the air.

"Don-Don't do that! Wait, why are you following me? Do you not have a home? Umm... Ok." Whipping out her phone she texted.

eleanor im being stalked

Chloe Smith 9:32 AM

Serious? Chloe?

Eleanor Joyce 9:32 AM

Chloe laughed as she imagined her friend's face at the text. Snapping a picture of the dog, she sent it to Eleanor.

yh. cute right? XD

Chloe Smith 9:33 AM

When u get bck I will mrdr u.

Eleanor Joyce 9:33 AM

Confusing passers-by by giggling uncontrollably in the middle of Regent's Park for no apparent reason was fun.

"And... Open!" John took his hands away from Rachel's eyes. "Venizia, the city of... soggyness."

She gasped. "Oh my god! John, you are the most amazing lovely wonderful person on the planet right now!" she said, hugging her boyfriend tight.

"I know. Wait, only right now?"

"Well, I have my moments."

John punched her lightly on the arm and kissed Rachel's cheek. "Oh shush, you."

Chloe had taken 'the dog' to the vet where it was established that 'it' was a 'him' and that he had no owner. Surrounded by Katie, Eleanor, Chloe and Mrs Hudson, he was snoozing on the table while they decided what to do. "Can we keep him?" Chloe asked, reminding Mrs Hudson of her six-year-old granddaughter. Apparently Katie was also reminded of a small child as she teased "Are you ready for the responsibility? Food, water, walks..."

Chloe stuck her tongue out and played along, saying yes in a high voice.

"Well, if you don't mind Mrs H" their landlady shook her head "and Luna seems to like him, so I guess that's fine." decided Eleanor.

"I shall call him Harley." declared Chloe.

"Umm, why?" asked Eleanor.

"Because he was sitting by a Harley-Davidson when I found him this morning."

Standing in the hotel room, John watched as Rachel spun slowly, taking in the beautiful suite. "John, this... is gorgeous. Thank you. It must have cost loads though!"

He shrugged non-committally. "Not so much that I can't take you out to dinner. And I would buy the moon to spend more time with you."She smiled blushing and looking at the floor. John took this opportunity to rugby-tackle her with a hug, but carefully so that she landed on him and both landed on the bed. His girlfriend squeaked then giggled, hugging him. "Well, the bed's comfy." John grinned.

Evening

Katie tugged on the hem of her little black dress, wondering yet again if it was a bit short for a date, let alone one with Eleanor and Conor there too. She sighed, telling herself to stop worrying. The doorbell rang and she opened it to Conor and Nathaniel grinning at her. Eleanor was soon ready and they set out.

The sun was setting on the sea by Saint Mark's square, making it sparkle orange and red and the clouds purple. "Isn't it beautiful, John? Thank you for this. I love you." Rachel's eyes were sparkling with happiness.

"How much?" John tried not to be nervous.

"Dr John H Watson, I love you so much that if you asked me to marry me right now I would."

"Ever felt like testing a theory?" John pulled a small black box from his pocket and kneeling to his shocked girlfriend. "Rachel, I love you. Will you do me the honour of being mine forever?"

Rachel recovered from her shock long enough to yell "Yesyesyes!", throwing her arms around his neck. John pulled away to slip the ring on her finger and kissed her. A band at one of the restaurants struck up a waltz, and they danced around Piazza del San Marco to the laughter and applause of the Venetians and tourists.

Chloe was woken at one in the morning by drunken revellers. Opening the door to give them a piece of her mind, she was greeted by Katie, Nathaniel, Eleanor and Conor. Embarrassingly, they were the source of the noise. Sighing, She pointed them inside and in the direction of bedrooms for the girls and the sofa and beanbags for the guys. When all was quiet and Chloe was back in bed with Harley sleeping on her feet, she couldn't help but ask.

"Why do they have to get drunk when it's only me to deal with it?"

**Yeah... I know I said that you could tell I didn't own Sherlock by the fact I wasn't married to John? Well... Yeah.**


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

Rachel woke in her fiancée's arms with the sun streaming through a gap in the curtains. _Fiancée, _she thought, _lovely. Better than boyfriend alright._ She looked down at the ring on her finger, unable to stop her grin. It really was beautiful. A silver band swirling to meet in delicate threads securing a dark amethyst. How John had known it was her favourite stone she didn't know. Or care particularly much. Reaching for her phone, she took a photo, sending it to Chloe and snuggling back into John. The trainee doctor laughed quietly when she instantly got a call back. Tapping her boyfrie- fiancée's hands Rachel wriggled out of bed. Answering the call as she basked in the sun by the window, she was instantly bombarded by Chloe practically hyperventilating down the phone at her.

"Hey! Shush! John's asleep."

"Which you could only know by being in the same room as him, if not bed..." Chloe giggled.

"Oh, shut up." Rachel replied good-naturedly.

"Not sleeping any more." John said groggily. Raising his voice to be heard down the phone, he added "Chloe, your racket would have woken the dead, even through the phone."

The girls laughed. "John, go have a shower or something. I want to chat to Rachel." Chloe said loudly in turn.

"Nice to feel wanted." John grumbled, smiling.

Grinning back, Rachel faced the window again. "Anyway. Chat."

"Tell me everything."

The friends exchanged stories – an engagement for a dog; romance for alcohol; hotels for flats; boats for cabs and sunny Venice for rainy London.

After her chat with Rachel, Chloe went for a walk with Harley. Painkillers and a short version of John and Rachel's news were set in front of her sleeping friends on the off chance they got up before she returned.

I believe congratulations are in order. SH

Sherlock Holmes 10:35 AM

Chloe? JW

John Watson 10:35 AM

She was very excited. I could hear her from up here. SH

Sherlock Holmes 10:35 AM

John smiled. Chloe did seem rather excited.

I wish you all the best. She will make you happy, and you will do the same for her. SH

Sherlock Holmes 10:35 AM

Thanks mate JW

John Watson 10:35 AM

Chloe turned a corner, her mind on other things. Until she realised she was behind a brick wall with only a corpse with an axe buried in it's head for company. She swore, backing up as her breathing sped a bit but unable to take her eyes off the body. Pulling her phone from her handbag Chloe called Sherlock, thanking her lucky stars she'd put him on speed dial 5.

"Sherlock, um, there's a dead body."

"Where are you? Are you okay, did you see anyone?" His terse voice was interested, but with touches of underlying concern.

"I'm fine, but I didn't see anyone. I'm on Porter street, behind the Starbucks, I think."

"Have you called the police?"

"No."

"Good, they'll only get in the way, the incompetent fools. I'll be right over, don't go anywhere."

Sherlock ended the call, slipping the phone into his coat pocket, swirling it on to his shoulders and flicking the collar up as he trotted down the steps. Something felt odd though, and he realised it was his first crime scene without John in over a year. Waving at cabs, the detective couldn't help wondering how many more crime scenes he would have to visit on his own now. John was getting married, and would probably settle somewhere with Rachel, have kids, work in a surgery and be _normal_. He deserved it, he'd done enough not-normal things for a lifetime, and Sherlock was happy for his dear friend. But what would he do? His thoughts were interrupted by Katie flagging down a cab (successfully unlike his attempts) and hopping in with Eleanor, gesturing for him to do the same. Recalling his first post-death crime scene, featuring some very stubborn and surprisingly helpful extra assistants, he sighed and got in.

The cab pulled up at the Starbucks where Chloe and Harley were waiting. She didn't seem at all surprised to see her friends accompanying Sherlock, instead showing them straight to the body. The body in question had long blonde hair, blue eyes and a height of about 6ft 2". According to his passport he was Sven Lerang from Iceland. He was unnaturally pale and his phone was high tech, so he probably worked inside with technology or liked gadgets. He was killed by a blow to the back of the head by a replica Viking war axe, which was still lodged in his head. In his hand there was a can of light blue spray paint and it matched the graffiti on the wall above him. The paint was as recent as his death. "He left a clue before he died! The paint is at his height and done left-handed as he was. Either he did it or it's an elaborate deception, I'm favouring the former." Sherlock suddenly said.

Eleanor frowned. "It's not a very helpful clue, it makes no sense."

They all turned to face the graffiti, which read;

'Don't blink. Don't even blink. Blink and you're dead. Don't turn your back, don't look away and don't. Blink. Good luck.'

Eleanor was right, even to Sherlock it made no sense. But to Chloe it was familiar, like she'd seen it before. No, heard it before. And the colour. It somehow spoke of playing Monopoly with Rachel who would stage a bank robbery if she was losing with only Pentonville and Old Kent road...

"Harry." John spoke into his mobile somewhat nervously.

"Hey John! How are you?" He stopped himself breathing a sigh of relief. Sober.

"I'm very well. Great, in fact. What about you?"

"Sober. It sucks." John chuckled. Typical Harry. "But hopefully you didn't call to check up on me, as you're on holiday. So what is it?"

"Harry, will you come to our wedding?"

A moment of shocked silence. Then, "Oh my god! Yes, of course, congratulations! Oh, my ickle brother, all growed up..."

John laughed. "Oi. No one calls me 'ickle'. Just for that, I'll have to... um..."

"Come and visit me. And bring Rachel." was his sister's decisive reply. "Gotta dash, arrange later!"

Click.

"Rachel? We've got to go see my sister."

"What, right now?"


	14. Chapter 14

**Sorry for any inaccuraccies! I don't really know enough to be reliable :P**

**For Angharad. Happy Birthday! xx**

**Chapter 14**

"SHERLOCK! I know the quote I know the quote!" 10:00 at night and Chloe was clattering up the steps to Sherlock and John's flat.

Sherlock leapt from his position on the sofa, eyes alight. "Tell me."

"It's a Doctor Who quote!"

"...What's Doctor Who?"

Chloe stared at him. "You don't watch Doctor Who." Sherlock looked blank. "Never mind. It's a quote to the weeping angels. And the colour it was painted in is on the Monopoly board. Look." Grabbing John's copy of the game from one of the shelves on the wall and producing the board, she showed him. "Here. Pentonville, Angel Islington, -"

"Stop. You said it was a quote about some kind of angel, and the colour is Angel Islington. That's where we need to go."

"Now? Um, okay. But we don't know where to go."

"I know where we should go, but we can't go now." Chloe jumped at the unexpected voice of Eleanor. When they were facing her, she added, "The axe. I knew I'd seen it before. We need to go to the British Museum."

The next morning they were in the British Museum as soon as it opened and Sherlock, Chloe and Katie followed Eleanor to the Viking display. In a corner was the original axe that was used to kill Lerang. Eleanor read out the display. "'This Viking axe was used to kill traitors or people selling secrets from an undercover society.' What do you think?"

"Interesting." Sherlock mused. "Thank you for showing me this."

The girls were shocked. Sherlock _never_ apologised. "Um, its okay. Anytime." Eleanor mumbled.

"Do we know where to go in Angel Islington now?" Katie asked.

"Library. I need to know more."

Setting the coffee on the step below the one Rachel was sitting on, John noticed how she was fiddling with the ring. "Having second thoughts? Don't like it?" he said, sitting beside her.

"No" No _way_. I love it, and I love you. I just... I have to keep doing reality checks."

John smiled. "Me too. It's the best feeling in the world."

Smiling back, she leant into his shoulder and kissed him. "What did I do to deserve you? It must have been good."

"Anything you do is good."

"Oh, you haven't tried to make me wash up yet. I'm the worst procrastinator in the history of the universe. On that note, I can't be bothered to get up. I'll do it in a – woah!"

John swung Rachel onto his back. "Where to, my lady fair?"

"Gimme my coffee! I was gonna drink that!"

In the Angel Islington library, the Viking section was disappointingly small. There was a book about boats, one about mythology and the sole book on weapons did not feature the axe in question. One book was missing from the shelf, and Katie went to investigate. "Hey, um, there's a Viking book missing from the shelf, do you know where it is? Could we look at it?"

"Sorry dear," the librarian replied as if Katie was five, instead of at college. "it's reserved for someone."

Grinding her teeth, she asked who it was reserved by.

"Personal information dear."

Flashing a Scotland Yard ID at her, she growled. "It's important for a police investigation, which you are currently hindering. So stop calling me "dear" and start answering questions unless you want a night in the cells!"

Silence. Almost everyone was staring at Katie, who was staring at the librarian who looked like she was about to go into shock.

"Sven Lerang. Never picked it up."

Sherlock's head lifted. "Excellent! It's like he was setting a trail before he died. He had been warned."

"W-wait, he's dead?" the librarian stammered.

"Yes, we're investigating his murder." Katie smiled humourlessly.

The librarian fainted.

Handing the now-conscious and slightly shaken librarian a cup of tea, Eleanor and Katie walked back to the desk Chloe and Sherlock were sitting at. "Katie, where did you get the ID card?" Eleanor asked in mock disapproval. Katie widened her eyes, looking about in mock innocence. "Katie..." she frowned, albeit with a smile.

Sighing, Katie answered. "Sherlock had loads from Greg so I..._ liberated_ a few."

"Tut tut. What will we do with you? Now, what's in the book?"

"Viking kings and queens." Sherlock murmured.

"What, like Erik Bluetooth? I think it's Erik. Could be wrong. Oh, it might have been that bloke off ABBA, wha-" Katie was abruptly stopped.

"You were thinking of Bjorn, but it was Eric Bluetooth. But you have-"

"Waait, you know about ABBA?" Chloe sounded incredulous.

Sherlock waved his hand. "Mycroft liked them. Shut up. ANYWAY, Bluetooth!"

Blank looks. Sherlock sighed. "Here is Lerang's phone," he said, producing it from a pocket in his coat. "We are going to check the Bluetooth function and the files downloaded from it, which should help the case."

The girls crowded round the phone, groaning when a passcode locked screen appeared. Sherlock however was jubilant. "Don't you see? It's obviously important or he wouldn't have locked it. Now, let's check the phone for clues."

"The background is a weeping angel." Eleanor pointed out.

"Same as the quote?" Nods all round. "I thought so. I don't believe in coincidence, so the code should be..."

l

_Passcode correct._

The screen loaded. Thousands of files, with titles like "will and kate private pics" or "texts showing rooney affair – for heat only". And then a list. Of every single phone, computer or tablet in the room. Experimentally, sherlock chose his own. All his texts, photos and files were now displayed on the small screen. "He was a hacker." breathed Sherlock. "So what did he get hold of that was worth dying for?"

Chloe said in a small, shocked voice "That one." pointing at a file. It read - "BLACKMAIL secret revolt against government plan. Gunpowder plot 2"


	15. A sort-of Epilogue

Hello, dear readers.

This story continues in Shaken Worlds, so I hope that if you enjoyed this you will read that as well.

Apologies for the wait, and if you do, thank you for sticking with this.

Hunter Watson


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